When This Little Twiggy Went to Meat Market (Notice: All Sales Final)
Twiggy Piggy, a foxymoronic sow,
went to look for a smokin’ hot mammalian beefcake
with whom she could cook up something tasty
(like a litter of mini meatloaves).
She turned down Monsieur Filet Mignon
after he made the piggist comment
that his preference was Kosher.
When Ground Biff said he needed a little pink slime
to beef him up,
she sunk her teeth into Sir Porterhouse–
liking the largeness & tenderness of him.
But she realized her haste
when he cornered her in her sty
that after he was well-done,
all that would be left would be her squeal.
Playing “The Glad Game,”
she mined the good
from the bad.
Counting “The Happy Texts,”
she found the truths
to tell the beautiful truths
that made life
just a little bit better.
Party of Five
In a three-bedroom house
lived a gentleman and a lady,
a boy and a girl,
and a woman of The Sandwich Generation.
hadn’t lost her other half,
but a whole part of something greater
they had built together.
And while she cared for those who had treated her
as a daughter,
and cared for those as she had once been cared for
by those whose daughter she had been,
there was no one left to care for her.
For one man came and left,
and then another,
But never did she leave her father and mother in-laws,
nor the children that had first belonged
to the love of her life,
to cleave unto one of these men.
she lived her life,
and when the right one came,
for he stayed.
This is a cute little introductory volume on the concept of “found poetry.” I love the idea of “finding a poem” because it shows that poetry is omnipresent–in dictionaries, crossword puzzle clues, book titles on a shelf (the word version of a “shelfie”), advertisements, social media posts, et cetera.
For me, the difference between poetry and prose has always been strategically-placed line breaks, but then, everyone has their own definition of what a poem is. (It definitely doesn’t have to rhyme.)
Some of the “found poems” are a stretch (ironically, “A Bird Poetry Reading,” for example, which would drive one nuckin’ futs to read) and “Texto” (a column of meaningless texting abbreviations which were found on some teen website), but others are gems, like “Man’s Best Friend” (an excerpt in a speech by George Vest–U.S. Senator from 1879-1903–and one of the leading orators of his time) and “First Wins” (from selected words in a SPRINT newspaper advertisement).
The cover is eye-catching, the illustrations cute, the font and layout pleasing to look at, but the book is much more useful as a tool in getting an idea of what found poetry is, as well as a guide in how to find your own poetry. (Maybe more poets should work in advertising.)
This book helped me see old things in new ways, or rather, look for poetry in the most unlikely places.
Her heart was neither in the mathematics nor the sciences;
she didn’t need to know how things worked,
for it was enough that they did–
to experience the magic without knowing the tricks.
Her heart was in the histories and in the literature–
the truths and the untruths.
Her heart was in the languages,
in the communications that drew
people from one another.
But it was into the words she wrote–
words that bridged these three–
that she poured her heart.
(based on the short story, “The Swimmer,” by John Cheever)
For Neddy Merrill,
swimming the Lucinda River
ages him in dog-years,
while his four little women at home
Yes, they had all gathered at the river
that flowed by the throne of inebriated suburbia,
the adults committing merry debauchery in the cabanas—
adultery and drunkenness mostly—
while their Wonderbread-complexioned children splashed
in chlorinated summer bathtubs.
In and out of Lucinda,
Neddy only comes up for air to find Shirley above him,
giving him CPR from drowning in the depths
of marital servitude,
until he breaks away to chase
that next body of water,
each one becoming colder and less welcoming than the last.
When he comes to the river’s end,
the seasons have made haste,
and there is no petrichor to cheer him,
but rather, the dank odor of clothes
left in the washer too long.
Did he jump into the deep end,
or did he fall in,
only to find himself in an empty pool?
For the short story this is based on: